


Unexpected Problems

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison is a good auntie, Alpha eyes, BAMF Lydia, BAMF Stiles, F/M, Feels, Hurt!Stiles, Jackson's a dumbass, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Pack Family, Protective!Derek, SO MUCH SARCASM, Sarcasm, Scott has qualities for a good BFF, m-preg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Faerie-dust is like a sex drug to werewolves and Derek gets a face full of it because of Jackson. Stiles gets affected for some reason and well... the after math-<br/>It's uh... it's pretty interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

So Stiles hated Jackson. It was official. 

Because all of it,  _all_ of it, was Jackson's fault. All of it. Every single  _fucking_ problem that had started yesterday morning had been Jackson's _fucking_ fault.

Right, well, maybe not  _every_ problem, but it was pretty damn close. If Jackson hadn't-

Oh god, now he was thinking about it again. UGHHH no. no.no.no.no.  _no._

"Stiles he-" Scott tried saying over the roaring in Stiles ears.

"No. No. No.  _No._ Nope. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him," Stiles said over and over, his hands over his ears as he walked into his house.

"Stiles man-" Scott said again, closing the front door behind him.

"No. Scott. No. Down boy."

Scott gave him the finger for the dog joke. "Seriously dude, it wasn't his fault. He tried getting Derek away from the-"

"NO SCOTT. Don't even mention 'the incident'. Just don't. I've already had it up to here with your werewolf ass, you really _do not_ want to add more fuel to the flames."

"He didn't know it would affect Derek like that!"

"Are you defending him?!"

"What? No man, you know I-" Scott shook his head. "Look whatever, that's not even the issue. Jackson  _didn't_ know what it was! Derek had already inhaled the damn thing by the time Jackson could pull him away. He-"

"Derek was out numbered by like seven to one! By faeries Scott! _Faeries_! He got his ass handed to him by Tinker Bell and her Merry Band of Pain-In-My-Asses and he fell face first in their little pile of faerie-whatever-the-hell-it-was. The bottom line is, Jackson should never even have done anything without the whole pack to back him up! If he hadn't  _been there_ none of this shit would even have started!" Stiles yelled waving his arms around, his emotions tangled around worse than the World Guinness's biggest knot. 

Knot. Jesus.  _Knots._

Oh God Derek was going to kill him. Maim him worse than the worse kind of maim. The people who wrote the fucking dictionary would have to make a new adjective to describe the kind of maiming and killing Derek would place on Stiles when he felt good enough to actually stand up. He was going to rip Stiles to shreds. Smaller than shreds. He'd be fucking mosquito snacks. 

Shit. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.  _Shit._

_  
_Fucking Jackson. The douche.

Scott looked a little nervous now. Like he had something on his mind, but didn't really want to say anything. "Yea, but... you know... everything was... _consensual_. Right?"

Stiles gaped at his best friend, because seriously, _what_?  "Did you just ask me if the sex was good?" his voice rose to a very unmanly squeak. Holy shit, finding out that the faerie-crap was like a sex drug for werewolves had seemed like the icing on the top of a bad day, and now Scott wanted to know the kinky details after Derek and Stiles had practically attacked each other in their haze?

He wasn't even a werewolf. How the hell did that even happen then? It was just one more thing to think about, or really... avoid, if he wanted to live longer. 

"Wha- Oh God, no. No, I don't want to know. Anything. Nothing. God don't even say that word when Derek is involved in anyway. Are you trying to scar me for the rest of eternity? Oh ew. Gross. So gross. Dammit Stiles!" Scott stared with wide eyes looking, like he would rather gouge his own eyes out with a hot iron than say another word about Derek and sex in the same sentence. 

Stiles raised his hands in the air, albit a little sarcastically. It was part of his Stilinski charm. "Yea, well think about that and then put yourself in my position, who actually  _had sex_ with Derek." Not that it had been bad, because God, it hadn't been, but still. _Derek._

Scott ducked his head with a disgusted expression on his face and he shook himself over the back of the couch like he was trying to exorcise the thoughts from his mind. Stiles was very tempted to make a wet dog joke about that, but then the crushing realization of his virginity being taken by a guy he was pretty sure  _hated_ him killed the urge like a piano over the head. It was almost refreshing. 

Only in his fucking life would this shit happen.

No, just push aside the beautiful strawberry blonde that he had been _pinning_ for since he was kidand go straight for the - Greek god bodied- okay so he was a _little_ hot- (whatever he was seventeen, he thought pretty much every marginally good looking person was fuckable) snarling and broody guy that hid in the shadows and liked to scare the shit out of him on a weekly basis. Yea, cause  _that_ was going to go over well.

Stiles swore someone in heaven had his number and it was on thier shit list.

"Dude," Scott seemed to gag, "I can only handle so much info on this. I'm dying already here. Make it easier on me."

"Scott! I had sex with the  _Alpha_ because  _Jackson_  got him a face full of some sort of magical faerie dirt-"

"-Pixie dust-" Scott interrupted, already looking a little guilty. 

"Whatever! The point is I can't make this easier on anyone, because this has seriously happened! Whatever trust both of us had, it's gone Scott. As in forever. Gone. Because some special dust turned both of our minds to mush and we- Derek and I. Both of us. WE both. I-" Stiles stopped talking and the slow burn of panic that sat in the back of his mind since that morning rushed to the front of his eyes and stopped his lungs. He felt his ribs constrict painfully around him and he could hear the flow of blood in his ears. Heat rushed across his face in waves and he couldn't seem to take a breath in. 

"Stiles?" Stiles heard his best friend ask, looking up and turning away from the crouch to him. "Stiles are you- Stiles!" 

Black dots were starting to form in front of his eyes and his knees suddenly felt too weak to carry his wieght. He was going to fall over. "Stiles! Breath man! Stil-"

Stiles legs gave out and he felt his face reaching towards the hardwood floor much to fast for his preferred taste. Wind rushed past his face, and the black dots blinded him from everything. Inches from the ground, Stiles felt hands around the tops of his arms, stopping his face's crash course to the floor. Unfortunately for the rest of his body, it flopped against the hardwood with promises of new bruises in the morning. 

Scott turned Stiles over on the ground and shook him, causing Stile's neck to flop around from the force. "Stiles breathe! Breathe! BREATHE GOD DAMMIT!" Scott yelled furiously.

The panic in Stiles rose over his mind and crashed against him like a tidal wave that was intent on drowning him. He could feel the edges of his conscious slipping away, and his lungs still wouldn't work for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered in he was going to die from this. Dead at seventeen. Right in front of Scott. It would tear up up his best friend, he was sure, but it would have nothing on the terrible pain it would bring his father. If he just left him, no one would be able to look after his father. He'd finally be alone in the world, and that just wasn't okay to Stiles. 

But this was it, Jackson's douche baggery was catching up to him and it was literally choking the life out him. His throat just wouldn't open up and his lungs wouldn't work. He was gonna be a gonner through the asshat of the school. 

He was  _sure_ someone above him had his number in their shit list now. 

"Sorry Stiles, I-" Scott's voice yelled above him twisted in panic.

Stiles didn't have time to think about what the hell his friend was babbling at him through his own panic before a fist connected with the side of his face and his head snapped against the harwood floor. The black dots recieded from his eyes, then came back with a passion that made him feel dizzy. Heat flashes ran down his neck and back and his lungs kickstarted with the force of a bowling ball. He gasped, his back arching from the floor and before he could yell out, the black dots mutated into a smothering blanket and Stiles fell back to the floor, unconscious before his body settled. 

 

0000000000000000000000000~

 

Stiles woke up from a strange dream that was still making his head spin. 

He had dreampt that faeries had caused electrical damage to the electronics in Beacon Hills through their magic (because hey-ho magic apparently didn't get along well with technology) and that the Pack had gone to confront them about it in the middle of the forest. Always the forest. Did he mention it was nearly night time? Because it was. Nearly dark in the middle of the forest. 

The Faeries didn't appreciate the sudden appearance of a pack of werewolves on their newest home and they attacked, splitting all of the Pack up into smaller groups, leaving Derek, Stiles, and Jackson together to burn the Faerie's pile of pixie-dust to eliminate their source of power. 

Only, because nothing  _ever_ goes to plan, even now in Stiles dreams, Derek got burned, quite literally, and Stiles had been thrown a good hundred yard like a football into a tree. Jackson, getting by injury free, and being the douche that he was, had decided to take on burning the pile of pixie-dust by himself. He had almost made it.

He had gotten about halfway there before the leader, a wanna-be Tinker Bell, green outfit and all, had screeched in it's Faerie language and a sort of gray cloud surrounded Jackson. Nothing had happened for the first few moments, other than Jackson officially stopping in his tracks, but then, Jackson started gagging from behind the wall of gray clouds. Gagging and choking until suddenly, he was throwing up. And not just his lunch or breakfast, or something normal, no, Jackson had begun to throw up blood. 

Buckets and buckets of blood that never seemed to end from his red stained mouth. Stiles had  barely gotten up and was running towards Jackson with a dazed mind and a half formed plan still circulating over him when Derek, fully in Alpha form, sprinted in front of Stiles and tackled Jackson _through_ the cloud. 

Yea, through the magical mushroom cloud of death he went, and all seemed going back according to plan again, until Stiles realized that Derek was still healing from being charred alive by the faeries and he wasn't moving from the ground. Jackson though, was fine, if not a little pale and in some serious need of a toothbrush, and he had gotten up looking first confused, then shocked, and then finally horrified. Stiles knew then and there some serious shit had gone down and he had started running towards Derek as fast his battered body would let him. 

Faries though, they didn't like it when their trespassers got up after they tried to kill them, so while Stiles was struggling to remember how to breath and run at the same time, the Faeries, almost seventeen of them, used the residue of the pixie-dust and sent the same sort of gray cloud at Stiles that they had at Jackson. 

Stiles, totally not okay with throwing up blood, had literally thrown himself off to the side behind a tree. The cloud passed over him and evaporated into thin air without a host. 

Stiles stood up, his aches and scraps protesting, and started running back over to Derek. Jackson had his arm around the older man and was pulling him away from something. Stiles couldn't concentrate on what it was, the outlines of his vision had gotten fuzzy, and he stumbled over to Jackson just as the Faeries had started swarming up for another attack. 

"We have to get him out of here!" Jackson yelled at Stiles, his cool facade gone and replaced with complete and total panic. 

Stiles couldn't quite believe it. What had Jackson  _done_? "What? We need to burn the-"

"Derek inhaled some of it!"

"WHAT?"

"You heard me Stilinski, Derek inhaled some. I don't know what it's gonna do to him- what he's gonna say- he can't die- he just-"

"Jackson duck!" Stiles yelled at him, and shutting Jackson the hell up. He was sure, if he had been a werewolf, he would have roared right about then, but with him not being a supernatural creature and all, he just grabbed an unconscious Derek's arm and pulled him away from Jackson as the douche-bag launched himself backwards. Another cloud of choking and vomiting flew by them.

Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek's torso and heaved the man as fast as he could away from the faeries. He hitched him up against a tree and yelled at Jackson, "Call the rest of the pack! Get them all here!"

"They're busy!" Jackson yelled back, falling back into the trees like Stiles had done. 

"We all take out the power source they won't need to busy!"

"What are you-"

"Just fucking howl Whittemore!"

Stiles looked back down at the unconscious Alpha and prayed to whoever was watching over him (although he kinda figured no one was these days considering the shit that kept happening to him), that he wan't going to end up chopped into little pieces and then he punched Derek in the face, right across his nose. 

The crack of his hand told him he'd actually managed the blow, and then the newly opened (and glaring) red eyes of the Alpha told him that he was in deep shit. Well, Derek was back up and didn't look crazy enough to kill him right then and there, so he called it a win. "Derek. Wake up bud, Faeries and Jackson are out there- pack should be here at some-"

Derek stared at him, his eyes looking a little glossy, and at that point, Stiles wondered what the hell pixie-dust could do to a werewolf one week away from the full moon.

"Derek, are you- can you even hear me? Derek?"

Derek blinked and the glossy look disappeared. Oh thank God. He looked up at Stiles and stared at him, his eyes a little too wide and his nose flaring. Good, hopefully the dumbass would get off his rear end and help if he smelled the blood and fear coming off of Stiles. Then again, he might just end up looking like a smug little ass if Stiles showed fear, but-

Derek looked into his eyes calmly, and his eyes flashed red. "Mine."

Stiles said whatever came first to his mind. "Your what?" He looked around. Did Derek leave his precious leather jacket on the floor or something? Did he mean his territory? Oh, yea, that's probably what he meant. Smooth Stilinski. "Yea, yea, yours whatever, now come on get up and-"

That was when Jackson howled for the rest of the Pack. 

Derek's eyes went completely red and he looked Stiles over. "Hurt." he growled. Honest to god  _growled_ at him. Since when did he start talking in one worded sentences? Was it an Alpha thing? A pixie-dust thing? A woken-up-from-a-deep-sleep-thing?

"Well yea, the Faeries-"

Derek growled again. It sounded pretty damn scary, but he wasn't going to tell Derek that. 

"Listen, just get up and help the rest of the pack, they're all-"

Answering howls filled the air. Derek grabbed hold of Stiles wrists as if to keep him there. Stiles pulled back pretty uselessly. "Dude, not cool-"

"Get down. Don't move," Derek deadpanned. Oh hey, they had moved on from one word sentences. Win. 

"Yea not gonna happen bud. If you get to go out there, I-"

"Stay." Eyes flashed red and they were back to one words. Well shit. 

Stiles held up his hands. "Ah- Alright. okay. Not moving. Good. Got it. Staying right here. Unmoving."

Derek stared for half a second more, and then shifted into the Alpha and left Stiles behind in the trees. Left behind. Again. Even after he had saved his perfect ass. Again. 

It was the cherry of nope on top of a fuck this sundae. 

"Yea right," Stiles grumbled after Derek had been gone long enough for Stiles to speak without being overheard. 

Stiles got up and ran towards the direction of the Faeries. Howls and growls of wolves could be heard over the rustling of the night time wind. Well, it looked like the pack was there finally then. Stiles ran around the trees faster until he was, accidentally, right in the middle of the whole shebang. 

Everywhere he turned, the pack was in the middle of growling or otherwise fighting the little flying shit-heads. Stiles looked around and concentrated on finding one thing. The pixie-dust. 

Finding pixie-dust. God. This was seriously his life. 

As it turned out, it really wasn't that hard to find. The pile of pixie-dust sat in a mound on the ground guarded by no-one in the middle of the fighting. Well, that seemed a little too good to be true for Stiles, but hey, if they left it open for him, why not right? 

Stiles concentrated on his heartbeat in the middle of the fighting around him. He concentrated on the 'spark' in his heart, the power in his veins and the tingle across his skin. He felt around for the flame of anger, life and light that living deep in his bones. He awakened the magic that lived in his soul and through his will, lifted it to his fingertips. Heat grazed his skin and with a jolt, he opened his eyes. 

Resting in his palm was the light and warmth of a ball of flame. It flickered in the night wind and rose with every breath he took. Stiles grinned. Thank God for Deaton and his amazing teachings. Thank God. He looked up and focused solely on the pixie pile. Right, bring it on. 

He sprinted from then on, and the memory of everything at that time got kind of fuzzy. He remembered the bruises and scrapes seeming to disappear from his body as he ran in tunnel vision toward his goal, and he remembered someone shouting his name. What he didn't remember was when his magic fire hit the pixie-pile, or when the dust exploded and threw him back. All he remembered was suddenly flying and landing. Oh god, landing he remembered painfully well. Landing had been- just ouch. 

And then he remembered fuzzy voices and shadowed faces. His name was being said over and over again like a skipping CD. And then he remembered heat. Heat so fierce it felt like it was burning him away. Heat worse than the time he'd been burned by his car's engine. It was so hot and hurt so much, he forced himself to open his eyes and his mouth to yell.

As soon as his eyes focused upwards, his mind cleared and the heat dulled. It was still there, somewhere beneath his skin, but it was on a slow burn; something pleasant, something he could deal with. 

"Stiles," someone said. Someone all too familiar. "Stiles."

"Why's-so-hot?" Stiles mumbled out, gaze landing on a healing Derek. 

The stare back at him was in one word? Intense. Really intense. Like, going straight to his cock intense. And really hot. He was still really hot. Why was it so hot? 

"Stiles," Derek said, his nose flaring. 

"Stiles man! Dude are you-" Scott's voice came somewhere to the left, but Stiles couldn't really move his head to the side to see his best friend. He hurt, and was sore, and oh so  _hot_. It was supposed to be night time, why the hell did it feel like it was a hundred degrees outside in the middle of summer? 

Derek snarled at Scott and Jackson's voice came out from Scott's direction too. "McCall, leave it."

"What? No, he's my best friend! I'm not gonna-"

"McCall. Do you have a god damn nose? Use it."

Silence then. Blissful silence. Though the heat was starting to rise again in Stiles body.

"Oh.  _oh._ Oh geez, I didn't even know they-"

"We'll cover our tracks Derek. Stiles needs to be- uh- taken care of..." Erica said somewhere off to the side.

Stiles guessed the fight really was over then. He'd done it. They'd won. Yippe. Which one of them had turned the damn heater up so high? 

"The hospital Derek. Nothing else. He needs to go to the-" Scott said.

Derek growled. 

What was up with him? He'd flashed the Alpha eyes and everything. 

"Go," Derek said between canines. Well, gee, he'd like to and all, but you know, with being chucked like a bouncy ball in the forest, he couldn't really feel his legs at the moment. That actually, was kind of a terrifying thought. Why couldn't he feel his legs?

"But-" Scott's voice again. Oh Derek was talking to the werewolves. Wait, were they going to just leave him then?

 "Scott. Come on..." Isaac said. 

"But-" 

"Come on McCall. Allison and Lydia are still back at the train depot, waiting with the wolfsbane if we don't get back soon." Jackson's voice. Was he getting farther away.

"They-"

"God just let it go. Come on," Erica said. Footsteps got closer to them and then, before Stiles knew it, a couple pair of feet were running away from him. The only one left was.. well was Derek. What the hell was he still doing here? He should be leading the Merry Band of Mutants out of the woods. What was he-

"Stiles?" Derek asked, coming into his vision, eyes green around the rim and brown near the pupil. Oh good not Alpha colored.

"I'm good. Just give me a sec here. I'm gonna get up- just have to catch my breath- here, hold on a-"

"Stiles," Derek said, his eyebrows coming down and his hand squeezing his arm tighter. Hold on, when had Derek- how long did he have his hand on him? What the-

Derek's  _hand._

Stiles jerked away from Derek and the burning heat from earlier struck Stiles down so hard, he swore he could see stars. "Holy Shi-" he yelled, his back arching upwards. Derek's hand reached out faster than Stiles could see and wrapped it around his upper arm. Immediately the heat lowered back down to a simmer. 

Well fuck. That was a problem.

Stiles looked to the hand on his arm and then at Derek. "Derek?" he asked. "What- what's going on?"

"Pixie aftermath," he said, his eyebrows coming together and his teeth snapping to a clench. 

"Pixie- wait, are you okay?" Stiles sat up slowly, weary of the bumbs and scraps, and Derek's hand came up with him. He hadn't even seen if Derek had been okay after his face plant into the magical dirt.

"Fine," Derek said, through his clenched teeth. "Other than this? Fine."

"What is-" and then Stiles remembered the buring when Derek let go of him. "What- does it hurt you too?"

Derek gripped his arm tighter and Stiles really didn't need an answer. He got his feet underneath him and put his hand over Dereks, making the older man glare at him for a second before Stiles tugged at him and they both got up. 

Stiles swayed on his feet dangerously close to falling back down. Derek put his other hand on Stiles other shoulder and the dizzyness past. He shook his head trying to clear the blurry smudges from his mind. "We-I- need to get home. Dad's gonna be so mad if I'm not home."

Derek looked down at him like he was an idiot. Okay, so the pixie dust didn't really change anything then. Great. "And how do you plan to do that?"

"I-" Well, shit. Yea, another problem. His dad would not take kindly to bringing in an ex-convict into his house witout at least a headsup. And bringing him into his room? Oh man, his dad would flip a-

Shit. 

HIs room. 

His bed.  _Sleeping_. Pain if they weren't touching. How was he even going to-

And que mental images of a comando sleeping Derek in his bed.  _God fucking dammit._

Nope. Dead kittens. Roadkills. Jackson. Papercuts. Coach Finstock. Ahh that did it. Nothing there now. 

"Exactly," Derek gruffed. "Text your dad that your sleeping over at Scott's. We can't go back to your house." 

"Then were are going?" He asked as he fished his phone out of his pocket. The screen hadn't even cracked after everything. Win. 

Derek started pushing Stiles forwards into a walk and his hand was _still_ on him. 

"First. Deaton."

"You realize that it's like nine right?" Stiles argued. "He's probably not even there."

Stiles pressed 'send message' and then to 'Dad' he typed out one handedly:  **Hey dad, sleeping over at Scotts tonight. Will be back by like 2 tops. Night.**

Stiles thought about putting the phone away before a thought crossed his mind. **  
**

From Stiles to Dad:  **I better find that you ate leafy greens and not pizza when I get back or your not getting anything remotely greasy until I**   **graduate.**

Which hey, wasn't for two more months, but still. His dad wouldn't risk it, he was sure. 

Derek glanced at him. "Do you know how to stop this?" 

Well. No. "If I did you would know."

"So Deaton."

"Are you going to sniff him out? Or do you know where he lives?" Stiles asked.

Derek rolled his jaw. "No."

"No. Right." His life. Seriusly. Was he the only one who ever thought shit threw? "You know the fact that no one understands you doesn't make you some sort of artist." Derek's next glance looked more like a glare. "What? You could totally pull off the artsy-angsty-angery type. Although, you'd look a little more bad-ass then your typical artsit, but you could totally do it. Really. All you have to do is smile a bit more often. That is, if you know what a smile is. Or are you just allergic? Wait no, you can't be, I've seen you do it when we you were trying to flirt your way through-"

"Stiles. Shut up."

Stiles phone vibrated.

From Dad to Stiles:  **i am the sheriff. i'll eat what i damn well pls**

From Stiles to Dad:  **i'm takin that as a yes. see u tomorrow**

"Do you have any idea how to find Deaton?" Stiles asked.

Silence. 

From Dad to Stiles:  **Night son.** Stiles put his phone away. 

For the sake of all curly fries. "You really have no idea do you?"

More silence.

Stiles shook his head. "We'll just have to wait it out."

The trees were thinning ahead of them. "Wait it out?"

"Yes wait it out. This has got to be a side effect of the pixie-dust right? Why the hell it's also affecting me is just- I don't even know- but it can't last forever. We destroyed the pixie-pile so the after affects can't be that strong." 

"You," Derek deadpanned back, effectively confusing the crap out of Stiles.

"What?"

"You. You destroyed the dust."

"I- Well, it was a team effort right? We all were trying to do the same thing.I just- got lucky I guess"

Derek was silent again. 

"Frankly though, I probably would have been the only one who would have been able to do it. None of you guys even carried lighters with you, how were you all going to light it on fire? Breath on it and hope your bad doggy breath would kick start it into flames?"

Derek didn't comment on the dog joke and it made Stiles look up at him. Though, nothing had changed, Derek wasn't even looking at him, just around at the forest. 

"How did you start it?" Derek asked. 

"Magic."

"Deaton?"

"Yep. So when I say magic, I mean it literally. I started the flames with the 'spark' inside of me. Whatever the hell that still means."

There was silence after that. A silence that seemed to stretch between them, but it didn't fall to the uncomfortable chart in Stiles mind. It was sort of tense, but it was always tense with Derek, so nothing really out of the ordinary. 

His injuries were starting to hurt now though, and the aftermath of adrenaline from running away from Tinker Bell was starting to catch up with him. 

"We there yet?"

"No."

"We close?"

"No."

"Fuck, how long did we walk?"

Derek grunted. Well  _that_ wasn't going to go by without sarcasm.

"Derek, I don't speak grunt-anese. You're going to have to  _use your words_."

"Stiles. Shut up."

"I'm rating that a two on a one to ten scale of come-backs. That was just pitiful."

"Just hurry up."

"Coming dear."

"Stiles-"

"Yea I know, shut up. Doing it. Right now."

Derek huffed.

Eventually, the tree's thinned out to a parking lot, and the parking lot held two cars. One was Derek's and one was Stiles. Well, here was yet another problem.

"We're taking my car," Stiles called first, walking towards his car. 

"No, mine." The grip on Stiles arm tightened and Derek none-to-gently pulled Stiles towards his car. Apparently Derek didn't get that Stiles had already called _dibs._ Fucking werewolves and their fucking super strength. Which brought up another really good question. How the living hell were they supposed to get in?

"Go through the drivers side and climb over the consul," Derek ordered. Okay, well glad to know he at least thought  _this_ through. 

Derek opened his car door and Stiles climbed into the drivers side as gracefully as he could before getting snagged on the consul and falling headfirst into the passenger side window. Stiles could swear he heard a huff or a laugh from the drivers side. Of course Derek would enjoy his pain. The asshole. 

Stiles righted himself and Derek slid into the drivers seat pretty damn gracefully. Derek pulled out keys from his jean pockets and started the car. With one hand he slid the car into reverse and then forwards. Werewolf grace ladies and gentlemen. 

Stiles was tense in his seat as the car moved forwards down the empty streets. Because, hello, Derek's hand was  _still_ on him. Still wrapped around his arm. And Stiles couldn't just ignore that. He literally couldn't. The hand was just  _there_. Teasing him and being a general asshole for something he knew he couldn't have. 

Faeries. He hated them. Hated. No actually, Jackson. This was Jackson's fault. He hated Jackson.

"Stiles," Derek said, his eyes never leaving the road. "Stop it."

"I'm not even doing anything," Stiles said back, his body tensing. 

Derek breathed out. It almost counted as a sigh. "I can smell your anxiety from here."

"Well excuse me for wanting to freak the fuck out over this."  _  
_

"You don't have to panic about it."

" _You_ might not have to, but I'm the squishable human in this relationship Derek." And  _wow_ that sounded really domestic. Time to change the discussion. "Besides I don't even know where we're going. Where are we going?"

"The house."

"What house?"

"My house."

"Wh- the creepy burned down house?" Derek's eyes flashed red. "Oh come on, you know it is! Seriously, you're taking us  _there_ for the night?"

"I have a mattress there."

"You have a- oh well that just solves all the problems then doesn't it?"

"Stiles." Well that tone he knew very well. 

"I know! I know. Shutting up. Got it. Whatever man."

And Stiles _was_ quiet, he remembered, throughout the rest of the car drive. That was, until Derek stopped in front of a Rite Aid and got out of the car, dragging Stiles along with him.   
"Hey- Where- What are you doing?"

"You smell like blood. I don't have a first aid kit at my house."

"So you want to go out into a very  _public_ place with your hand on me in small town? Have you lost your mind?"

"You're still bleeding." They walked threw the automatic doors and into the store. 

"I'll survive."

"Shut up and tell me which one to get," Derek said stopping in front of shelves full of medicines and packages of band aids.  Well that was a contradiction firstly, and secondly, did he not even know what a first aid kit wa- oh yea, werewolf healing abilities. He'd probably never even looked at one before. 

"Second one from the top. It's got all the goodies."

Derek eyed it. "You sure?"

"Positive. Trust me, I know my first aid kits."

Derek glanced at him. "Right."

Derek grabbed the first aid kit, paid for it and both of them made their awkward shuffle back to the car. Stiles could swear he could feel the cashiers gaze on his back. "Well. That wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

Derek didn't say anything. He didn't let that hold him down. 

"So. Back to the haunted house?" Stiles asked.

Derek gave him a glaring Alpha stare. Stiles really wasn't all that impressed. "Come off your high horse. You know that place is creepy man. If you really want to keep it around, rebuild it."

Derek started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Stiles kept his peace again for Derek as they drove and didn't say a thing until Derek was stopping the car and pulling Stiles out of the car towards his house. 

Stiles stumbled after him and into the shell of a house. Derek lead him into what Stiles thought could have been a kitchen at one point. He grabbed the first aid kit from Derek's hand and he pulled himself on to the counter. 

"Can you open it? Claws work better on plastic than one handed nails," Stiles asked as Derek stood off to the side of him looking like his own personal grimm reaper.

Derek nodded and got out the first aid kit without a word. Actually, as Stiles stared at him, Derek looked a little worn out. Tired, even. His once black t-shit was ripped and shredded all across his shoulders and stomach. (huh, wonder what the cashier thought about that) And his whole stature looked a little more pressed down than a normal persons. No, Derek didn't look tired. He looked pretty damn exhausted. 

"Hey, you okay?" Stiles mouth asked without his brains permission.

Derek looked up sharply, but Stiles forced himself not to look away. He just narrowed in on the bags under Derek's eyes and wondered to himself how he hadn't seen it before. Derek definitely didn't  _look_ okay. 

"Fine."

"You sure? Cause you look like-"

"Stiles, just raise your shirt." That caught Stiles off guard and made his brain short circut.

"Raise my- wait what?"

"Your shirt. Take it off."

"What? No- why would I-"

"You're still bleeding. Just move," Derek said, his other hand already at the base of his shirt. 

"Woah! Woah, just hold on okay?" Stiles said looking over his body and Derek's hand on his upper arm. Well, that would be a problem. 

"Move your hand to my knee," Stiles ordered.

"Wh- what?" And apparently that caught Derek off guard. Well, hey there, welcome to the party, it was getting lonely just with Stilinski charm to keep him company. 

"Your hand Derek. Move it to my knee. I'm going to have to take my shirt off right? I can't do that with your hand on my arm," he said opening up the first aid box and avidly avoiding looking at Derek.

Derek wasn't one for words and after a brief silence, Stiles felt Derek's other hand, his right hand, wrap around his knee. It was a big hand and it was warm. The house didn't have heating and the spring evening was starting to chill Stiles even through his jacket, so the warmth really sunk into his skin through his jeans. 

Derek's other hand released Stiles arm. "Alright. Good. Here we go," Stiles mumbled to himself.

Stiles tugged the bottom of his shirt upwards until the sticky fabric was over his head and resting in a heap beside Stiles thigh. Stiles skin protested at the friction and at the cool air. He shivered and looked down at his chest. Bruises, already half formed were turning a deep purple under his skin and long red scrapes were smudged with dirt and bits of leaves. He grimaced and looked up.

Derek's eyes were on his skin, taking in the bruises and the blood. Stiles tried for a grin. "Yea not the prettiest am I?" 

Derek's eyebrows came together and his canines elongated. 

Stiles didn't really have the energy to be scared. "Oh shut up. I'm human, sorry my blood offends you. It's what happens when your thrown like a football across the forest. Twice."

Derek glanced up at him and Stiles opened a bottle of antibiotic ointments. He pulled out a smaller gauze and placed some of the ointment down on it. He looked around the room then, searching for some water. "Do you have running water here? I'm going to have to rinse off the dirt and blood."

Derek opened a cabinet and took out a plain bowl. It was plastic, dust covered and Derek pulled it under the water faucet in the kitchen. "I'm taking that as a yes," Stiles commented from behind him. Derek's hand still on his knee so his body was twisted off to the side looking a little uncomfortable. 

The image was imprinting itself into Stiles brain forever. Nothing would ever get any weirder than this. Nothing. This was at the top of the list. 

Derek filled the bowl up with water and brought it back to Stiles with a clean-ish looking rag along with it. "Here," he said, handing the bowl off to him.

"Thanks," Stiles said dipping the cloth into the water and washing out the dirt. The water was cold and the scrapes stung. The dirt didn't want to come out, and Stiles had to scrub the surrounding skin to get the blood off. All in all, it really sucked. He had to clench his teeth and hold his breath as he worked. 

"Do you want to just go to the hospital?" Derek asked, his eyes narrowed on the cloth in Stiles hand. 

"What? And explain to them why I can't have near me without screaming? Yea, that would go down well I can just see it now."

Stiles rung the cloth in the water after his front part was taken care of and frowned at his back. "Can you get my back? I can't reach." 

Stiles looked up and Derek stared back at him like he'd just been smacked with the wet cloth. 

Stiles sighed. "Oh come on. I won't even deafen you with my chattering if you promise to be marginally gentle. Okay? Just come on. The faster we get this done, the faster we can forget about this and never look back."

Derek rolled his jaw and moved his hand from Stiles knee to his hip. Stiles eyes opened wider and he could _feel_ his heart rate jumping out the window. Derek was sure to hear it, Dammit.

Derek grabbed the cloth from Stiles before he turned behind him and placed the rough material across Stiles' back without a word. Stiles closed his eyes and waited for the pain. He braced himself for the sharp flame of heat that came with the water over his cuts, but the pain didn't come. 

Instead, a heat like the calming a warm balm was circled up by his neck and then worked downwards to his shoulder blades and back. The cloth was light on his skin and the water didn't seem to sting as much as it should have. It was reassuring, and gentle. 

Well damn, Derek was being  _gentle_ with him. That was something new. 

After a couple of silent minutes, Derek's hand pulled away and the cloth was dropped into the water bucket. Stiles shivered and the warm hand at his hip tightened. Stiles felt his heart beat kick up again and Derek shifted behind him. 

Stiles swallowed and turned towards the gauze. "Here. Hand me the Neosp-"

"Don't put it on your skin," Derek said behind him, his voice low and ridiculously soft. Oh good god, sounds like that should't even be  _legal_. 

Stiles thought of anything and everything to take his mind off of  Derek's voice. He laughed nervously for Derek's sake. "Don't put what?"

"The medicine. It... smells."

Stiles laughed, the beats in his heart lowering and his mind focusing on keeping a conversation. Oh good. "It might to you, but it's good for me."

"Don't," Derek's voice said from behind him a lot smaller. Derek's other hand came around and rested on Stiles other hip behind him. Stiles Froze. Then something warm and heavy pressed between his shoulder blades and something soft tickled the back of his neck. A cold nose hit his spine. 

Holy flying fuck. Derek's face was on his back.  _Derek's face._ His  _face_. 

Derek inhaled and a cold breeze flew up his back. "You smell too good." Derek released his breath and his skin warmed at the outburst of hot breath.

"I... smell?" Stiles said through a blank brain. 

"Mhh," Derek said, and Stiles could feel the vibrations of Derek's throat. 

"Well that's- that's really, yea- but I gotta- they'll infect if I d-" Stiles tried saying through the whiteness in his brain. 

"Don't," Derek breathed behind him. "Don't move."

Stiles swallowed. "I'm an unmovable object."

Derek grunted, Stiles thought maybe it was half a laugh, before something hot and... wet was pressed over one of his aching cuts. Stiles eyes widened and his heart froze right in his chest.  _Tongue._ That. That is a tongue. 

Derek's tongue pressed against his back's scrapes and he felt his bodies own 'spark' rise up and heat fill his mind. Derek moved upwards and Stiles back arched upwards with him. "Der- _eck_ , ah- jesus."

Stiles should have said something about this. Should have pointed out that Stiles was not Derek's type. That Derek was straight. Should have-

And then Derek's tongue was on his neck. 

Everything after that exact moment went, sort of blurry...

Stiles remembered a red haze fill his eyes and his body feeling overly hot. But that was sort of normal right? When your really attracted to said person that's usually how it all goes down... but then... Derek was there and was doing the same things back to Stiles, which... was  _wow_ , but it didn't make any sense. Derek was  _Derek_. Who had no attraction to anyone. 

He remembered his own body heat rising, and the magical heat under his skin soaring even when Derek was touching him. He remembered nothing suffocating the heat that drove him upwards until Derek and he were together. As in, his-virginity-was-lost-forever kind of together.

And then he remembered bliss. A high that no drug could ever duplicate. A feeling that soared over happy and sunk into his bones. He could feel the magic in the air when Derek and him fell against the mattress for the last time with their eyes closing, and he  _knew_ that the pixie-dust effects from before had caught up to him.

It made him happy, because damn, he'd gotten his over-played fantasy with Derek behind him, but it also crushed him because he knew that he was never getting this again. He had tasted Derek, and he had felt him beneath his fingers, and he knew he would never have it again. This was it. A taste and then it would be ripped away forever. 

He fell asleep beside Derek that night with those thoughts sinking into mind. He knew he should feel guilty or angry or even scared about it all, but all he felt was the breath of Derek behind his neck and the happiness that still lingered in the corners of mouth. 

 

000000000000000000000000~

 

Blinking his eyes furiously, Stiles sat up from his living room's couch cushions. Yea, that had been one dream all right. God he could almost feel all the injuries, it had all been so vivid.

Actually, the pain was real. His head felt like it was on fire at the moment. A painful throbbing vibrated against his skull and Stiles tongue felt heavy inside his jaw. "What the-"

"Stiles! Thank god. I thought i'd given you brain trauma or something," Scott said coming in from the kitchen and bringing in a glass of water.

"Given me- you, wait, what happened?" Stiles asked, taking the water.

"I sort of- I- Well, I knocked you out," Scott said sheepishly, sitting down across from Stiles.

"You- you knocked me out? When did you-" Stiles started. His brain cut him off and images filled his mind like a movie on fast forward. Well, hey, there you go. The universe was in fact, fucking with him. Because not only was every moment of his dream real, he'd gotten a panic attack over it and now Scott was looking at him with the big brown eyes.

Stiles put up on finger to him. "Don't. Whatever you're going to say. Don't." Stiles put his face into his hands and breathed through his nose. "Just don't."

"Stiles-" Scott said sounding small and hesitant.

"Scott man. I can't. I don't even- god Derek is gonna kill me."

"He's not gonna kill you. I wouldn't let him."

Stiles didn't know whether to laugh or snort. "Then he's never going to look me in the eye again. Either way... I loose."

Scott was quiet. "Maybe, but I think... I think you might be surprised with- well with whatever happens after this."

Stiles looked up to his best friend and shook his head. "...what?"

Scott looked up at the ceiling for support. "You like him. I get it. I mean, I thought that it always would have been Danny, I guess after our Junior year homecoming, but I mean-"

"What? I don't- Scott man. There is nothing between me and Derek. There never was, and there is never going to-"

"I know when you're lying dude."

Stiles looked away and glared at the couch cushions. "I hate you."

"I love you too bro," Stiles could  _hear_ the smile on Scott's face. "but seriously-"

"Scott," Stiles breathed, "even if I did admit to liking him more than what really is healthy for a member of the pack, it would never happen. Derek- he's not into guys."

Scott leaned back in his chair. "And you're sure about this?"

Stiles gave Scott the 'don't fuck with me' look. "Of course I'm sure! I've seen the way women act around hi-"

"How does he act?" Scott asked, sounding patient like he was waiting for Stiles to pick up on the final piece of a puzzel before figuring it all out. 

 "Well, uncomfortable I guess but that doesn't mean he-"

"Stiles. Dude. Do I really have to spell this out for you?"

"Don't bring my hopes up Scott just for him to stomp on them. I don't think my ego could take that," Stiles said, knowing full well where this was going. 

"He. Likes. You," Scott stated.

"No. No he does not. Nope. Not listening to this," Stiles put his hands over his ears.

"Stiles! He- come on- look, just-" Scott got impatient and pulled Stiles arms down and held them there. Stiles gave Scott his own personal version of a 'death glare'. Surprisingly, Scott flinched. "Just listen to me Stiles."

"No. Let me wallow in my grief in peace."

"You're being an idiot."

"Well fuck you too."

"Stiles."

"Scott."

"Oh God, here we go," Scott realeased Stiles, ran a hand through his hair and shifted his feet. "Look, it's just that. I smelt it on him last night okay? He- he liked you."

"He was under a pixie-dust induced sex drug. This does not help my situation Scott."

"No, I mean, beyond that. Last night, he... ugh geez, he  _cared_ about you okay?" Scott looked away, his face undomfortable and uneasy.

Stiles stared Scott down. "What do you mean?"

Scott sighed. "I mean... okay look, I've smelled it on him for a while now. I thought that maybe it was for Erica or ... I don't know, Isaac... but it was always there, right after we had all almost died again. This protective... I don't know how to explain it- just, but just trust me okay? He does care about you."

"I know he does."

"Y-you know he- then why are we having this conversation? Just go up to him and-"

"Of course I knew. I'm the sheriff's son. He  _has_ to care whether I live or die or else all of beacon hills would go up in flames through the wrath of my dad."

"What, no-"

"And you've told me before. I'm pack. You've said it, Boyd's said it, hell, even Jackson's said it. I get it dude. I'm part of your little club, and that means Derek  _has_ to be responsible for me. He's the Alpha."

Scott stared at Stiles. "I wanna hit you right now, but I know I can't."

"Hit me with your best shot," Stiles said before smiling and hiting a falsetto, "fire away."

"Ugh," Scott said before leaning back into the cushions and holding his head. "Just- go take a shower."

"What? Why? I've already taken o-"

"You smell like sex. And Derek. You smell like sex with Derek. It's giving me a headache."

Stiles lifted an arm to his nose. "I don't smell anything."

"Yea well  _you_ wouldn't now would you?"

"Fucking werewolves," Stiles mumbled under his breath as he got up and walked towards the stairs.

"I heard that."

"Shut up and make me breakfast."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was more than a little beyond weird. 
> 
> Actually, this was terrifying, with a dash of anguish and sprinkled with impossible. Roasted over a big pot of fuck-my-life.
> 
> Stiles should be getting used to this. He really should. Then things like oh, I don't know, pregnancy wouldn't affect him as much as it does right now. Because right now, it's affecting him pretty damn badly.  
> As in, another panic attack badly. 
> 
> This time, this shit was Scott's fault.

A week passed for Stiles after 'The Incident'. Scott tried to talk Stiles into talking to Derek and Stiles shot him down faster than Lydia had with him back in middle school. 

He was never going to talk to Derek again. Ever. 

He liked living. He enjoyed it. Talking to the big-bad Alpha after there little trip down sexy-times-lane was not an option because of that. He was more than positive that if Derek saw him, he'd end up in little pieces scattered around Beacon Hills. 

He figured the only reason he lived this long was because A) he's Scott's best friend and 'pack'- which, really, did this mean he would get his membership card taken away after he slept with the Alpha? Because that would suck. Badly. And B) because his dad is Sheriff. If the Sheriff's kid went missing, it'd look bad on the Hale pack. 

So no, he didn't speak, nor want to speak, with Derek. 

The full moon came later that week and Stiles spent it on his laptop, glancing every couple of minuets at his phone just in case something went wrong. Derek had taught them how to control their wolves on full moons, but sometimes they still got a little too excited. Fortunately for him, despite feeling a speck of appointment, no one called his phone. 

He spent his night alone and fell asleep at two in the morning. 

When he woke up, his window was open.

 

000000000000000000000000~

 

Another week passed without confronting Derek, but as he was still going to school, he couldn't escape the rest of the pack. 

Erica, Boyd, Allison, Scott, Isaac, Lydia, Jackson, and Danny attacked him after he parked his jeep and walked towards his first class. 

"You still smell," Jackson grimaced, putting a hand over his nose as soon as they had all stopped and surrounded him. Danny grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the locker next to Stiles.

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows and sniffed under his arms. Dude, he had totally put on deodorant today. "Uh, I took a shower this morning, so whatever man. You and your wolfy smell ain't so high on the list of things I like assaulted on my nose eith-"

"Like sex, Stiles. He means you still smell like sex," Erica smiled smugly, her arms coming over her chest. 

Scott scrunched his nose. "Did you even try to scrub it off you?"

Stiles felt a little affronted. Fucking werewolves. "Yes. Yes I did Scott, thank you for being worried over my hygiene but yes I definitely did."

His scrunched nose turned into a grimace like Jackson's. "You sure?"

Stiles threw his hands into the air. "Yes Scott! Jesus. I took a shower. Several showers. Repeatedly."

Isaac took a step closer to Stiles and inhaled. He cocked his head to the side, and Stiles totally did not think of several dog jokes to go with that. He didn't. Wouldn't have been appropriate. Nope. "That's weird. You  _do_ still smell like Derek."

"Maybe it's a sensitivities thing after the full moon," Stiles shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? Still human dude. Squishy bones and all."

Boyd didn't even look amused at that. "That doesn't happen after the full moon."

"Besides the morning after glow is still on you. And  _that_ is weird. Even for a human," Lydia narrowed her eyes on him. "Did you and Derek do it again last night?"

Stiles brain did a retake. "Did he- we- are you- What?" he asked.

"Did you both have sex again?" Lydia asked him again. The pack turned their eyes on Stiles and Stiles glanced at all of them.

"Are you serious?"

"Don't try and lie Stiles, we can still hear your heartbeat," Jackson grinned looking just as smug as Erica. The douche. 

"Why are you guys so interested in my sex life? Back off. It's creepy," Stiles said walking around Scott and heading towards his first class.

"That wasn't an answer!" Scott yelled running after him.

"I don't need to answer your questions about my sex!" Stiles yelled back. Okay, he got more than a couple of odd looks for that outburst by everyone he passed.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled coming up beside him and giving him the eyebrows. "It's not just about you. It's about Derek. If you two are like... a thing now, then-"

"We had crazy mushroom sex. That's it. Nothing more."

"But you like-"

"No I don't."

"Heartbeat dude. I can still hear it."

Fucking- Stiles rolled his shoulders. "There is nothing between us. You and your Alpha are safe from the relationship that is Sterek."

"Sterek?" Scott asked confused, opening the door to Stiles first period class they had together. 

"Stiles and Derek, you know, like the celebrity couples that squish their first names together?"

Scott gave him another look. "And you're sure you don't have a thing for Derek?"

Stiles sat down in his seat and Scott sat right next to him. "Leave it alone Scott. It's a one sided deal. I already know that I go after people way out of my league. So just leave it."

"You don't-"

Their first period teacher walked in the door. "Good morning class!" And the conversation was left at where it was until lunch time. 

 

000000000000000000000000~

 

Lunch time, of course, was the perfect opportunity for the pack to corner him. Thankfully though, this time, it wasn't about his new found sex life.

It was about something normal. Or, in their case, supernatural. Which, you know, isn't  _exactly_ normal, but for them he guessed was. He sighed, this was his life. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" Stiles asked, coming back to the present.

"Half-vampire. Half human. Every heard of it?" 

"I- what are you serious?" Stiles asked.

Erica popped the gum in her mouth and leaned back in her chair. "Completely. Something's attacking human's up the coast starting from Los Angeles. It's headed right towards us,"

"Is it on some kind of attack course?" Stiles asked.

"What?" Jackson said. 

"Like, is it targeting Beacon Hills?"

Scott shook his head. "We don't know. Derek just wants you to find out."

"He- what did he tell all of you and just decide to leave me out of it? When did you all find this out?" Stiels asked. What the hell? This is how it's gonna go down between them?

"He- well..." Scott said rubbing the back of his head.

"Second period. And he thinks that you need space from him," Lydia stated. "I asked."

"That I-" Stiles shook his head. Yea, no, Derek would think that. So cutting him up was out of the question, and instead, in came all the self guilt. 

Stiles placed his head on the table and tried to make himself just dissapear right there. "Of course he would. The dumbass."

"I told him it wouldn't work, avoiding you," Lydia stated again. Stiles looked up at her with his chin on the table, watching the pack watch him from the corners of his eyes. "I mean, I ignored you all throughout elementary and middle school and you never gave up. Space and time to think about things isn't what I'd think you'd need."

"You think I should talk to him?" it wasn't really a question.

"You already know the answer to that," Lydia said pursing her lips and glancing at her perfect nails. 

Stiles placed his head back on the table and waved a flailing hand at them. "Go on about what you were saying. Half vampire?" He lifted his head and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "Are there seriously vampires now in our lives? Seriously? I need to keep a list of this shit somewhere."

"It's on your computer under 'English 2004'," Scott said from beside him.

"I know Scott. I was being hyp- You know what, never mind." Stiles turned to the pack. "I'll talk to Derek about it tonight. Don't worry about it."

"I'll be going through the other bestiaries too for information. There should be something in there," Allison added in.

"What exactly happened in the attacks?" Stiles asked Allison. "What makes it supernatural and not just another death?"

Allison looked at him and glanced at Lydia. "The bodies mostly. The blood was drained but the time of death wouldn't have been possible for just a normal vampire. Lydia, Danny and I were texting during second period about it and we all think that it could have been....."

The rest of lunch passed with Stiles being informed by Lydia and Allison about their theories with Danny adding in his pieces of advice or information in between their lines. He was soaking up as much as he could between the two of them as fast as he could. 

By the time the bell rang, Stiles head was spinning. He already had a couple theories bouncing around in his head about just-what-the-hell was going on, but now he needed his google. A lot of google. Google with a shit load of time to absorb everything. 

Scott took the opportunity to stick his completely human nose behind his ear while Stiles was throwing out his trash and thinking the possibilities over in his head. Stiles jumped and turned around. "Dude!" he complained, backing up and running into Isaac. 

Isaac turned with Boyd and Erica beside him and Stiles gave Scott a glare. "Seriously! I thought we had gotten over this man!"

Scott had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "It's just... you still smell. Like him. It's wierd."

Stiles rubbed the back of his ear. "You know whats wierd? Your best friend _literally_ sticking his nose into things he shouldn't be."

Scott rubbed his shoulder and glanced at Allison who was looking at Stiles, staring at him like he was a damn cross word puzzle that was missing an important vowel. 

Stiles put his hands in the air. "What? Why are you staring?"

Allison tipped her burnette curled head at him. "You and Derek. Have you-"

"I haven't seen him. Haven't had sex since then. I already told everyone. Thank you not so very much this morning," Stiles said.

"So you  _didn't_ have, you know... intercourse with De-" Scott said twisting his lips looking more than a little uncomfortable. 

"Intercourse, Scott. Really?"

"Sex. Whatever. You didn't?" Scott asked.

Stiles tightened the grip on his backpack and started to head out of the lunchroom. What was up with everyone lately? "No. I didn't. We didn't."

"Then why do you-?" Scott said running up behind him.

"God Scott I don't know! Okay? I don't have a fucking clue. _You_ guys are the only ones telling me I smell weird."

"Okay," Scott caught up to him and started walking backwards so they were face to face. "I didn't mean  _weird_. alright? I just -- you smell like Derek. Which  _is_ weird, especially if you haven't seen him in what... a week?"

Stiles nodded. 

"Okay so see, weird! His scent should have at least faded a little. He didn't even mark you, which was kinda surprising I guess, considering you both were high off your-"

"Wait woah, what do you mean 'marked'? What's marked? Who wa-" Stiles flailed at the door of his net class. 

Scott grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from the stream of staring students that were starting to come in behind them. "What do  _you_ mean marked? He didn't tell you? Didn't you guys tal-"

Stiles pulled Scott over to the side of the hallway next to a couple of random lockers. "We didn't talk. Like pretty much at all Scott. I got there, we did it, we woke up the next morning, I ran for it. It's what happens when you make a mistake."

Scott straightened and stared at Stiles with a wierdly intense look. "You thought it was a mistake?"

Stiles didn't know how to really phrase what he meant. "No. Kinda. Yes. Not really. I-" He shook his head and stared at his classroom door. "I just- it wasn't real you know? If it had been both of us okay with it all, it would have been good. Great. Better then great actually. But he was out of his mind. We were both totally out of it. It didn't  _mean_ anything. Both of us were just doing it. Nothing else with it. No feelings. No surpise declaration of love. Just- lust."

Stiles looked back to his best friend. Scott stared at him with hands over his chest against the lockers. "Your heart beat didn't stutter. You really think that."

"I really just know it. So no, no marking or whatever." Stiles put quotes up around marking. 

Scott shook his head and pulled himself away from the lockers. "Whatever man. Just make sure you're there at the pack meeting."

Scott left into the classroom quicker than Stiles could say anything back and he found himself alone in the middle of the hallway. Damn werewolves. He tugged his backpack again over his shoulders and walked into the classroom after Scott. Oh joy.

 

~00000000000000000000000

 

School ended, and Stiles went to Derek's house for the pack meeting, just like the pack said to. He was not following orders, by the way, okay? No way. He was just being a rediculously good best friend and pack mate. Or school aquaintance. Whatever. He was there. Deal fuckers. 

He turned off his jeep's engine and walked out to the halfway newly renovated Hale house past all the other cars in the driveway. The cool kids clubhouse for werewolves. He walked up the porch and didn't even bother knocking. He tucked his keys into his pocket and walked into the living room with both hands in his jeans. Heads turned as he entered the living room, and with doing a quick head count, he realized he was the last one to arrive. 

He smiled with more sass then he doubted even Peter could compete with and sat himself on the edge of the couch next to Scott sitting with Allison near a brand new coffee table. "I'm here," he sung to them all, causing Jackson to roll his eyes and Scott to nudge him with his elbow playfully. 

He looked up to Erica smirking at him and Issac giving him a sort of half grin. It was nice. It felt like he was wanted. Like he fit here. He turned his head to the big leather jacket wearing elephant in the room and all the little good feelings inside of him fizzled up and died in his chest. 

Derek stared at him quietly, his eyes centered heavily on Stiles like he had personal insulted his families memory by showing up, and Scott stiffened. Stiles faked one hell of a smile and rolled his shoulders. "Okay so lets start this whatcha-ma-call-it. Im's hungry and I have A.P Stats to do at home."

"

 


End file.
